Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

Thought Control

My weekend.  In 3 scenes.

Scene 1.  Ice cream store with the kiddos.  My intention was just to surprise them - I'm not hungry nor do I need the calories (we're ordering pizza that night for heavens sake).  I've ordered their orange sherbet and blackberry cups and borrowed Windex to clean up my drool from the glass separating me from the chocolate-chip cookie dough.  The clerk asks, "anything more"?

Scene 2.  Big fight with hubby right before bed.  A book on Buddhist wisdom (including compassion) lays on my lap.  He just turned off his light and thrown the covers over himself.  I'm doing everything I can to control my breath, think positive thoughts....but I'm still fuming.  The perfect words for a scathing response just came to mind.

Scene 3.  Last big run before the race on Thanksgiving.  Beautiful temps, level ground, but wind straight out of Oz.  (Ya know, that carried Dorothy off to the yellow brick road?)  No one will know (or care) if I cut my run short.  I've already stopped to walk a few times and thus blown my whole time goal.  A perfect turn-around spot (far short of the 4 miles I set out to run) is right ahead.

Whatever response(s) I choose will have consequences.  
That is karma in action.  

My fascination is not on the "right" or "wrong" choice, but how in control (or on auto-pilot) I feel in each situation.  

Those big decisions - like whether to start a new job or quit your current one, which diet to choose, which house to live in, how many kids (if any) to have - are of course important.

But decisions for each of those stem from the same thought process used to decide whether to order ice cream, yell at hubby, and run 4 miles.  Every single decision has consequences.

How aware I am of those consequences and the thought / action processes that creates them 
determines how much say I have in how my life unfolds.

We can always fight the wind, 
wearing ourselves out needlessly by feigning power,
allow the wind to carry us 
as we bump into tree after tree lamenting how unfair life is, 

or stick out our wings and fly with this power that is life.

The wind will still blow regardless of our choice.

(By the way, I did run 4 miles.  I didn't order any ice cream.  And I didn't share my retort with hubby. But I did have a few bites of my daughter's blackberry cup.  And I do have some zingers up my sleeve for the next argument.  Yeah, sometimes even I punch into the wind.)